Misery
by Seraya7
Summary: A short story about what was running through Jackal's mind in Grief.


I licked my lips as I stared at the old statue. Something was going down. I could almost feel the power in the air. It wasn't the robot in me, though, it was something deeper. Something old. I didn't much care for the thought that there was some part of me I had no control over, but I liked the feeling I got. It felt right. Like everything was going exactly as it was supposed to. Like it was something I was meant to do. I don't believe in destiny or weird feelings. But who am I to argue? I felt closer to being whole than ever, despite my... replaced parts.

To be honest, I'm not sure I would have gotten the cybernetic implants if my dear sister hadn't. She's a doll, really, but very, very difficult to disagree with. I've learned not to. I'm not saying I don't like my upgrade. I just wonder if that's what I would have done anyway.

No one else seemed to be having the feeling I had. Of course, I could barely rip my eyes away from the statue to check, but they were busy formulating plans, leaving me to my speculation of fate.

I always used to think that fate was like being forced to do something, whether you wanted to or not. It's not. It's like the whole universe is in synch with your mind, making what you want and need to do coincide exactly with what happens. It almost took my breath away.

I don't believe in coincidence, either, but there must have been a reason I picked the name Jackal. I couldn't remember—to the best of my recollection, it had just seemed like a good idea. It sounded 'cool'. But maybe it was my name all along. I stared at the statue of Anubis, with my namesake for a head, and wondered if this moment was the real reason.

Sounds crazy, right? It wasn't. Ever stare at the stars for no reason? Ever had eyes meet across a crowded room? Ever spent a moment just enjoying it? That's what this was.

For no reason I knew, I suddenly broke free of my trance over the statue and left the room, blurting some excuse about keeping an eye on the Emir. I didn't care about him. I just wanted to be in that room. I had to see what was going on.

I didn't plot or plan. I stood silently, and watched. I'd know what to do and when to do it.

Should I have told them about my feeling? Don't be silly. I knew they'd tease and mock me, especially my baby sister. I'd never live it down, forever being Jackal, the one who had a weird feeling. Besides, this had nothing to do with them. It was mine, and mine alone.

I smiled thinly at that thought. Only mine. So little of my life was for only me. My loquacious little sister had babbled and bullied her way into every aspect of my life; if she couldn't have it for herself or be part of it, she had to at least know about it and tell me exactly what she thought of it. I let her because it was easier than not... even as a child, she was a little spitfire, all teeth and clawing fingernails and loud complaints. I could no more deny her than tell an earthquake to stop—meaning that I could certainly do it, but it wouldn't have the slightest effect. And here at last, was something meant only for me, drawing me to it like a shark to blood. Something she couldn't have and could never understand. Mine.

My moment came, and I raced out to meet my fate.

When I opened my eyes again, I was sprawled face-down on the cold, hard floor. And I was in pain. Good lord, I was in pain. The distinct pain of loss. I couldn't remember much about what had happened, but I knew it had felt _good_. It had felt right.

My destiny had grabbed me, and thrown me across the room.

Can't say it surprised me that much. After all, that's what happens to me all the rest of the time. But somehow I'd expected more. Shouldn't a destiny last longer than ten minutes? The meaning in my life had come and gone, and it left me hollow.

Well, I couldn't very well let everyone else know that, could I? My darling sister would never let me live down this moment of weakness. I got to my feet and bolted with her. In the end, we had to wait out the tomb's destruction in a sturdy side room, and it was a piece of cake to blast our way outside when it was all over.

The sun was high and bright by the time we got out. I have to admit, I was stunned by the neat row of stone statues sitting in the sand, just waiting for us. Little sister cackled like her namesake at the sight of it.

"Well, well, well. Would you believe our luck?" In a moment, she seized the Maza woman by the arms.

Normally, I love a good one-sided fight. But there's something about being tossed aside by cruel fate that makes a man melancholy. Luck? It seemed to me that everything worthwhile had stopped when I'd fallen to the floor. I was in step with the universe for a too short time—now I was a little off-beat, and I could feel it. Now the universe grated against me like broken clockwork, and I was too hollow myself to try and destroy it or fight back.

Did my mental misery show on the outside? The only thing I could do was pretend that nothing was wrong. That nothing had happened. I kept walking past our enemies.

"Leave them."

Hyena ignored my meaning and gripped the woman harder. "What? Are you outta your mind? They're defenseless! This is our chance!"

She never could just do something without arguing. I resisted the urge to sigh. "This wasn't in our job description, little sister. Leave them. We'll get 'em another time."

Finally she dropped the woman to the ground, just so she could dart up to me and deliver her line in my face. "That mystical hocus pocus of yours may have left _you_ soft, but _some_ people are itching for a good kill."

How dare she? "You have _no idea--_" I began in a hiss, but forced myself to stop. I couldn't tell her about these feelings of mine no matter how strong they were. If I told her there was something about me she didn't know and could never understand, she'd never stop trying to figure it out. It was—had been—mine. Only mine. I tried to hold onto the memory of that, the way it had felt before it dashed me onto the floor and left me a broken, hollow, mockery of the human condition. Oh, no, I was fine. I was better than fine. I was good. I wondered how long I could keep up the act before my sister dear noticed something was up with me.

I tried to recover. "How I'd love to kill them, once and for all..."

But my sister scoffed at me. "Yeah, sure. You couldn't even manage it when you _were_ death. Don't tell _me_ how much you love killing things."

A person who didn't know me might think that I did this now over some sort of guilt for the people I'd killed. Well, they'd be wrong. I didn't give them a thought, and if I had you can be sure I would have dismissed it easily, perhaps assuming that the god of the dead set things right. As though right and wrong were things I concerned myself with. Anyone who truly knows me could tell you that I am thoroughly self-involved, and I have to say that's perfectly accurate. It was only me I cared about. I couldn't stand another fight now, not after... it pained me to think about it. I had no heart for it.

Maybe I was more broken than I thought.


End file.
